Mostly Unfinished Business
by Navie Chance
Summary: A set of short ficlets featuring everyone's favorite ninja team. Chapter three up!
1. Like Home

Welcome to Navie's TMNT drabble set! Each chapter will contain a mini-story, most of which will be from the 2007 movie. I'll be uploading new chapters periodically, depending on how much I get harassed to do so. Enjoy! XD

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**Title:** Like Home  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairings:** None  
**Fandom:** 2007 movieverse  
**Genre:** General/Fluff 

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Raphael groaned in the dark, turning over in his bed for what felt like the hundredth time. It was already well past two am, and he still wasn't the least bit tired. His year and a half of all-night escapades as the Nightwatcher were finally catching up with him, and if he couldn't fall asleep soon, Leo would be making him miserable come six o'clock training.

He sighed and sat up, enjoying the cold cement floor on his warm feet. He decided a midnight snack was in order, or maybe a cup of warm milk - Donatello's favorite sleep aid. He wasn't a big fan of the drink, but he was sick of staring at the ceiling.

Tiptoeing from his room, Raph shut his door as quietly as he could. Although he was used to jumping down from the balcony, doing so risked waking Leo and Splinter. He smiled to himself. Even ninjas in their deepest sleep, those two.

He passed Michelangelo's room, hearing his baby brother's familiar snoring and murmuring. Raph peeked in through the crack in the door; he could just barely make out Mike's sleeping form, tangled up in his ratty sheets, his left arm and leg dangling from the edge of the mattress. He snorted his in sleep, drooling on his pillow.

Raph rolled his eyes. Some things never change.

Next was Donnie's room, the slender turtle curled up under his quilt. For once his braniac brother had managed to make it to his bed instead of passing out in his lab, surrounded by the glow of computer screens and blinking buttons. Raph would never understand how he could fall asleep with all that light around him.

"No... that's not... not what a USB port is for..."

Talking in his sleep, again. He had more than cut his hours as a tech support slave in half since Leo's return. Instead of the calls, Don had set up an online forum for his IT business, and the end result was a much less stressed out turtle. Raph couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty that he had let his brothers support him financially for so long while he stayed out all night playing super hero, but it was too late to change anything now.

Raph eyed the frame of the next door. Leo's room. Maybe he should've jumped down.

He remembered how Leo couldn't sleep the first couple of nights at home. Raphael would hear him exit his room and return to the dojo, spending all night locked in his katas, only to be exhausted the next day. He would tell Splinter that he just wasn't used to sleeping in a bed after so long, dragging his feet during practice. Eventually he wore himself out and began sleeping in his room, safe beneath the heavy cover of his futon.

But there were times, in the earliest hours of the morning, that Raph wondered if it had actually happened. For the almost two years prior, he would occasionally peer into his eldest brother's room only to find it empty, his bedding tucked away in the cabinet and the candles cold and dusty. It always felt strange. Out of place. Wrong.

Raphael held his breath. If he looked inside now, would it still be empty? Was Leo's homecoming just a dream?

Gripping the light wooden frame, Raph slid the door open slowly and silently. There was just enough light flooding in from the living area to make out a form in the center of the room, rising and falling with soft, even breaths.

Exhaling, Raph was both relieved and disappointed. Disappointed over what, though, he wasn't quite sure. He padded to Leo's side and sat down, propping up one knee. His brother slept on his stomach, his arm folded under his pillow, his face the picture of serenity. No crease in his brow, no frown, no disapproving stare. He looked like another person, so still and quiet.

Raph rested his cheek on his knee and closed his eyes, suddenly very sleepy. He didn't remember dozing off, but he awoke with a start when a hand gripped him by the wrist. He gasped and looked down, following the arm to its owner.

Leo blinked at him, bleary eyed. Even a ninja in his sleep. He tugged gently at Raphael's wrist.

"Lay down," he whispered. "You'll be sore if you sleep like that."

For some unknown reason, Raphael couldn't help but obey, shifting to stretch out next to his brother. Leo pulled back the covers and scooted back to give Raph room, throwing the thick blankets over them both. Before Raphael could settle himself, Leo snaked an arm beneath his brother's head, the other around his shoulders and pulled him close. Raph let out a tiny squeak, caught off guard by the sudden and rather intense display of brotherly affection, but he allowed himself to relax. He pressed his face into Leo's collarbone, inhaling deeply. His brother smelled like the dojo, like tatami and white wax. Like home. He had missed the scent, more than he'd realized.

Raph felt warm and drowsy all over. It didn't take him long to drift into a deep sleep.

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Huzzah for more Leo and Raph fluff. :D


	2. Himitsu

**Title: **Himitsu  
**Rating:** T/PG-13  
**Pairing:** Leo/Karai  
**Fandom:** 2007 movieverse  
**Genre:** Romance/Angst

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_Kore wa..._

A voice sighed in the darkness, pulling himself closer to the warmth next to him. It was becoming harder and harder to sleep without it. To sleep alone. But it was alright. This small bit of peace was the closest he had to a vacation.

How did this start? How do enemies become friends, or even more?

So many battles, struggles, miniature wars had been waged between them. Two swords against one, yet so evenly matched were they that every battle ended in a near perfect stalemate, both refusing to admit defeat. And they would part, only to meet again and begin anew. Forever locked in their delicate dance, both bodies whirling with the fluidity of air and water. Locked in that single movement, flowing, twisting, unable to proceed yet unwilling to withdraw.

Until the day came when a misjudgment was made, a hand slipped, footing was lost. The pattern was broken, and one became prisoner to the other. But something was amiss.

He felt no victory as he stared down at his prize, sharing the air she gulped in her exhaustion. No triumph as he stared at her hands, pinned above her head. No satisfaction. He released her wrist and traced the outline of her jaw with a calloused finger; she made no move to stop him. He would not hurt her, he could not. Her eyes shone, yet the brilliant sepia held no hint of failure. Only relief, liberation, solace. A powerful sensation thrummed through him then, unlike anything he'd ever known. He _wanted._

They separated. The next time they met, however, was not on the battlefield. No soldiers, no weapons, no armor. It was only then, as she fell into his waiting arms, did he truly understand. This was her release, tucked away in the quiet of the hidden apartment, away from prying eyes and orders and missions. Here, she could be a woman instead of a ninja, free of the weight of duty and responsibility. She wanted it as much as he. Needed it.

And so a new dance was set in motion, one far more intricate and sensitive. They fumbled with the steps at first, unsure of themselves and the desire the fueled them. But soon the movement became as breathing; hands ghosting over skin and scars, the taste of another's flesh, the contrast of leaf green on flawless ivory. A shuddering gasp. Words were unnecessary and complicating, they spoke only with their eyes. A single glance sealed away their promise as they rested, the overwhelming want finally sated.

Until they met and danced again. No one would know. Ever.

_Kore wa watashitachi no himitsu._

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**Translation:**_Kore wa watashitachi no himitsu. _ "This is our secret." 


	3. Cookie Dough

**Title:** Cookie Dough  
**Rating:** G/K  
**Pairings:** None  
**Fandom:** 2007 movieverse  
**Genre:** Humor/Fluff

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"...I _hate_ my job."

Trudging from his lab, Donatello scrubbed his left eye with the heel of his hand. Coffee. His last customer, a wonderfully cranky old man by the name of Denis, had kept him on the phone for nearly forty minutes. What on earth was so complicated about copy and paste? And while the $4.95 per minute was rather nice, his newly forming migraine was not. He needed coffee. Right friggin' _now_.

He passed the couch, his tired eyes set on the kitchen. With his deft fingers he quickly prepared his beloved Mr. Coffee to brew him a fresh pot of Starbucks extra bold Sumatra roast. Oh, sweet nectar. He would never understand his brothers distaste for it.

Pleased with the bubbling of his coffee pot, Don smiled and turned back towards the living area. He felt more alive already. He finally noticed a figure on the couch, slumped in place. _The Price is Right_ blared from the surround speakers.

Don rolled his eyes. "Mike, think you could turn that down?"

The noise level lessened a bit, and a hand holding a spoon poked above the back of the couch and waved. "Hey, Donnie," Mike's voice called. His mouth sounded full.

Curious, the tech support turtle trotted over to the worn leather sofa, leaning over the back. His baby brother's head snapped up at him, grinning wildly for a second before returning his attention to the television.

"Watch this, Donnie," he pointed with his utensil. "Watch this guy. He bets one dollar more than the guy next to him, every damn - See, he did it again! Douchebag!"

Donatello sighed, rolling his eyes again. At least Mikey was easily entertained, a trait he found himself wishing he posessed. He glanced at the spoon that the other turtle was gesturing with. Odd. His eyes searched out his other hand and found an open yellow tube, the words _Nestle_ visible across the side.

"Mike?" Don frowned. "...Are you eating raw cookie dough?"

Michelangelo grinned again, spooning out a generous helping and offering it up. "Yeah, chocolate chip! Want some?"

Don pulled his head back. "No! Mike, that has eggs in it. _Raw_ eggs. It could make you sick."

His brother only shrugged, stuffing the spoon in his mouth. "Totally worth the risk," he muttered, savoring his uncooked treat. "C'mon, Donnie, we ate this all the time when we were kids. You used to love it."

"I love not having salmonella more."

"Aww, come on!" Mike put on his classic little brother pleading voice as he scooped more dough onto his spoon. "Just try it, Donnie. You know you want some!" He unapologetically thrust the dough in Donatello's face.

It was a hopeless battle, and Don knew it. Once his baby brother had his mind set on something, he became a green and orange brick wall. He glanced back and fourth between the spoon and Mike's pouty-eyed expression for a few seconds before finally giving in, snatching up the utensil and putting it in his mouth with a scowl.

Don's disapproval began to melt the instant the sugary mixture touched his tongue. His expression softened even more as he rolled the thick batter across his pallet, suddenly wondering why on earth he'd refused it in the first place. When he finally bit into a semi-sweet chocolate morsel, he couldn't stifle the moan that escaped from the back of his throat.

Michelangelo beamed. "Told ya."

Donatello pretended he didn't hear as he licked the spoon clean. He jumped up and cleared the back of the couch with little effort and settled next to his brother, motioning for the tube of cookie dough.

"Gimme," he ordered, spoon in hand.

"Hey," Mikey protested. "This is my dough. Get your own!"

"Hush," Donatello quipped. "I'm older, plus I outrank you. Now be a good little brother and share."

Though he tried to act wounded, Mike snickered and held out the tube. Donatello managed to eat a few more bites before his brother stole back the spoon, digging in. Back and fourth they went, giggling like children. The tube was empty before _The Price is Right_ was over, Don's coffee pot forgotten on the kitchen counter.


End file.
